Six and Counting

Six years.  You’d think it would be all over after six years.  You’d think you could celebrate the first day of spring instead of the sixth death day.  You’d think you could visit with a neighbor without falling apart.  You’d think you could visit with a close friend without wanting to drop into a hole because of your idiotic behavior.  You’d think all that, would you not?

                     The sun shone so bright

                      it seemed like a grand new day

                      of a grand new spring.

Maybe next year.


Homeward Bound

So all road trips need to end, else how could we say “on the road again”?  I was quite lucky in my choice of days to head back home.  The roads were clear of ice and snow the entire way, even over the pass.  I stopped there for a cuppa as usual and sipped it the rest of the trip.  The sun shone all the way and as I drove, it passed me by.

After the mountains, into a valley then up to Ryegrass (really, hardly a mountain at all, just a high hill) and at the top, I could see the plains spread out ahead of me.  Down to the Columbia then up again and stayed high the rest of the way.  The landscape was tan, with brown-green foliage of one kind and another, a long cry from the green forests of the other side of the mountains.  After the Columbia, there were a lake or two and some iced over ponds, but the sea was behind me and the salt air was gone.

When I first moved to the plains, I thought I would never like them.  I missed the sea too much.  But after a few years, the scent of the grass was home and I have stayed far longer than I ever thought I would.  It is only when I go west to the salt that I feel how much I miss it.

As I continued east, the plains took on the white of snow, glinting in the fading sun.  There had been a bit of a storm the day before, and that white against the tan and dark green was quite spectacular.  When I arrived at my driveway,  about four inches of snow faced me.  Clenching my teeth, I drove over it, knowing that would create ice that I would not be able to shovel through.  Oh well.  Home, I was home to the cat.

She purred a bit and then otherwise ignored me until the next day.  Ahhh.